When You Know Something is Wrong
I have received a lot (a lot) of writing advice over the years. Much of it good. Some of it easily identified as bunk. What's most dangerous is the advice that comes in a cloak of reason, of logic. But it's only dangerous when we know it's wrong, and follow it anyway. I received advice from several directions to remove non-binary pronouns from FLOTSAM. I added them in late in the game, not in the interest of being inclusive but because they were correct. My alien race is unconcerned with gender, and extremely concerned with societal propriety. So they have a clutch of pronoun groups to reflect this. Similar to the 'tu' and 'su' of Spanish, but with more layers to reflect the aliens' regimented caste system. I have these pronouns charted out, ready for use. I still hold that, even though they were not included in the MS, they are the truth of the characters to whom they apply. But they were almost entirely trimmed for the version of FLOTSAM that went to reviewers. Based on advice I received–advice that did not sit well with me even as I wrote them out–that using a foreign set of pronouns would take my reader out of the story. The excuse for this disregard for the pronouns, which I awkwardly wove into the paragraphs because I felt the need to explain the obvious absence, was added to make my protagonist take that view of the supposed reader who might appreciate 'him' and 'his' in place of the self-assigned words. To say "yeah, those words are tough, aren't they? I'll choose to be lazy with you. I'll go against what aligns with my character, and use the comfortable words so as not to alienate you." And in effect, that was me speaking there, because I wrote the lines of the story that offered this gut-wrenching, sickening excuse for bigotry. I could have swept it all under the rug. Removed that aspect of my non-binary characters and made them conform. That never occurred to me. But in my fear of 'writing it wrong' and doing a disservice to one (quite possibly small) group of readers, I attempted a clumsy half-fix that resulted in worse disservice to the rest. They were aliens, not humans. So it wouldn't hurt anyone, right? I'm sick over it, and not just because I've been called out on it. I'm glad. I should be called out for this, because it is wrong. I'm sick over it because I knew better. It does hurt. It hurt me to do it, and I squashed the voice that screamed, 'Don't do this!' And I'm sick over it because when I chose, in spite of knowing it was wrong, to do what I was told because it was more comfortable for someone else, I did this to everyone who's ever experienced this reaction. And that's not a small crowd. I gave my characters an identity and denied it to them in the same breath. Maybe some character in my book would have chosen convenience or ignorance over correctness and respect, but not my POV, nor the rest of my main characters which form my voice. In truth, my POV character would happily call such an ignorant character out over such a detail. Instead, I made her the offender. And with her, myself. A majority opinion does not determine the reality of the broader world we live in. Majority opinions only harm those against whom they level judgment. And I'd rather make the majority of my readers uncomfortable than to enact a callous denial against those who feel the pang of this wrong as strongly as I do. That the same voice inside that decried the denial is jumping up and down, cheering with glee that I was called out for it tells me that this is right. And I won't let my fear of stepping outside the lines stop me from listening to that voice in the future. It doesn't mean I won't screw up again, but I'll probably make less mistakes following my gut than following the rules. I think Talis would appreciate that. So I'll gleefully add those pronouns back in. Each, my apology to the truth that I almost denied. And I hope that, when someone trips over them, it gives them a moment's pause to wonder if the world might be progressing without them, and how they feel about that.